I taught myself the rudiments of embroidery when I was ten years old from a kit I bought at a local store, and making anything by hand continues to be one of the great joy centers of my life.
It is a joy shared by millions upon millions of people around the world, a thirst unquenched by industry or technology. In fact, it seems to me that the need to use our hands to create grows exponentially in response to industry and technology.
Today’s poetical excerpt is for all you makers out there.
You know who you are.
You know how, sometimes, you get that little hit of bliss when you read something or hear something that just gobsmacks you between the eyes because it expresses just how you feel?
I got that gobsmacked feeling the first time I read this poem by Joseph Bruchac.
In addition to being a poet, Bruchac is a novelist who lives in the Adirondack Mountains.
This is my favorite poem—ever. I hope it will become yours as well.